


The Sun Still Rises

by TheFellCreature



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 13:07:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2694146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFellCreature/pseuds/TheFellCreature
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-game Hawke and Fenris enjoy a lazy morning in bed. Fluff ad infinitum. Implied smut, etc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sun Still Rises

The light of dawn tentatively peaked through the window, its rays lighting upon the room with the soft urging of the passing day. Fenris couldn’t help but smile as the light moved its way across Hawke’s bare skin, gliding across the scars of her back and finally settling upon her fluttering eyelids. Her hair gleamed in the coming light, dark strands falling across her face and skimming her cheekbones.  
Watching her sleep, he thought of the elf he had once been, how consumed by the hate that had twisted his heart. He thought of how she had been the catalyst to his change, the companion who guided him to salvation, who freed him from the chains he failed to break himself.   
All this, in spite of everything he had said and done. 

“Why did you take me with you all those years ago?” Fenris whispered softly, breaking the peaceful silence of dawn as his lyrium-branded hand reached out in a tender caress.  
Hawke’s eyes slowly opened as Fenris let his fingers trace the scars on her back, trailing the calloused tips of his lithe fingers along her battle-scarred shoulders. She lay across from him on her stomach, her face tilted towards him as her unfocused grey eyes blinked away sleep. Fenris’ own eyes, green and alert at the sun’s behest, followed the intricate patterns of scar tissue along her back, recounting the tale behind each one with ease.  
“Mmm?”  
“Forgive me,” Fenris murmured as he reached up to brush hair from her eyes, “I did not mean to wake you.”  
“If not you, then the accursed sun,” Hawke mumbled dejectedly into her pillow, her voice raspy with sleep.   
Fenris laughed softly, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. “Not even you could stop the sun from rising, Hawke.”  
She smirked drowsily as she moved to mirror his position, propping herself up on her arm. “Watch me.”  
Fenris only smiled and shook his head, reaching out for her free hand and entwining his fingers with hers, green gaze conveying more than his words ever could. Her touch brought his lyrium tattoos to life, the blue luminescence flaring where she touched his fingers and moving its way up his body before the glow faded, the lyrium humming beneath his skin.   
Hawke’s gaze traced his tattoos up from his arm to his face, lingering on his eyes, which glowed in the iridescent reflection of the lyrium branding his cheeks. His gaze finally broke from hers as he turned her hand over in his, tracing the lines of her palm with his finger.  
Ever since they had left Kirkwall, Hawke mused, Fenris had become her own lanky shadow, ever-present at her side and always connected to her. His proclivity for physical contact had overcome the standoffish, steely exterior he had born when they first met; touch had become their own, silent communication, and she had come to cherish every moment.

Returning to the present, her eyes drifted up to his face once more. “You asked a question?”  
Fenris nodded, pulling her close as he moved to lie on his back, her head resting in the crook of his arm. “I asked why you took me with you when we first met. We didn’t exactly…get along.”  
Hawke laughed, remembering all the harsh words and heated arguments, the tension and resentment. “Get along? You held no affection for mages, me included.”  
“I…had a lot of hate back then.”  
“’Hate’ is a strong word…” she offered as she tilted her head to look up at him.  
Fenris leaned down to kiss her, appreciative of her efforts to reassure him. His lips met hers, soft and tender.   
“So is love,” he breathed before kissing her again.

Hawke felt the shape of the word ‘love’ against her lips as she leaned into his kiss. Breaking away, she looked up at him through dark bangs, grey eyes flashing silver.  
“Why did you agree to come with me?” she countered.  
“I had nowhere else to go. And nowhere I would rather have been.”  
She scoffed, eyes glinting in the morning rays. “You were free. You could have gone anywhere. The world was yours.”   
“I was certainly not free. Not then anyways.” His gaze was soft, tenderly meeting her eyes before he leaned down to bring his lips to hers. “And now the world is ours. Now we can go anywhere,” he whispered.

“I’m serious! I don’t understand why you stayed in Kirkwall. It was full of apostates, as was my merry band of misfits.”  
“Is it not enough that I did stay?” he growled halfheartedly. Rolling over on top of her, he kissed her once more, this time with more force as his shoulders flexed and his fingers caught her hair.  
“It most certainly is no—mhmm,” she moaned as he began to trail languorous kisses down her neck, his hips subtly grinding against hers. She laughed and pushed against his chest without any force. “You know I hate it when you do that,” she breathed, eyes bright and cheeks flushed.  
“It’s the only way to shut you up, woman,” he replied with a chuckle, his voice rumbling through his chest, the fine lines of his tattoos fanning out beneath her fingers like wings.   
“You know, if you had discovered that years ago, quite a few arguments could have been resolved a lot more pleas—” but he cut her off, capturing her mouth in his.

Hawke kissed him back fiercely, nipping at his lower lip before she began muffled protests.   
“Fenris! Now I don’t—mmph—even remember—mmmmmmm,” she moaned as his hands trailed downwards, his lips never leaving hers.  
Never to be outdone, however, Hawke broke away enough to flip over on top of him, the black of her bangs mingling with the white strands of his hair as her face hovered above him.  
“You are infuriating,” she said fondly, the teasing note of her voice twisting her mouth into a grin.  
Fenris’ defiant green eyes looked up at her through the white of his bangs, and he smirked wolfishly, good humor, once so rare for his brooding countenance, painting his features. “That’s not what you said last night.”

Hawke laughed. “I was a bit too occupied to be saying much of anything last night.”  
“That was my intention,” he replied, flicking hair out of his eyes.  
Hawke’s dark brows arched in feigned surprise. “Oh? That seems a lot of trouble to keep someone quiet. Maybe I’ll try that next time instead of buying some lowlife’s silence with coin.”  
Before she could react, Fenris had rolled over so he could pin her in one swift motion. “You’d better not,” he growled, “I’m perfectly capable of silencing anyone without the need of your…expertise.”   
Hawke laughed. “Is my expertise reserved exclusively then?”  
“Yes.”

“And how would you deal with them?”  
Wordlessly, Fenris clenched his fists, the lyrium flaring to life in bands across his backs of his hands.  
Shifting to face him, Hawke reached out to take his hands in hers, the smirk on her face a recognizable sign that a very Isabela-like innuendo was about to ensue. “And what if I have…other plans for your hands?”  
Tracing the fine bones of her knuckles, Fenris leaned forward, hovering over her lips. “That’s what a sword is for,” he replied, tantalizing close before moving away with practiced speed.  
Hawke blinked as she watched him make his way towards the door, shrugging on his clothes and no doubt on his way to procure food from the innkeeper.  
“Tease!” she called after him, a wide smile spreading across her face. Maybe she didn’t dislike mornings so much after all.


End file.
